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For seven years, James Foster and I were nothing but platonic meal buddies—the kind who'd team up for Valentine's Day every single year just to score the set menu and not eat alone. I figured he was still hung up on some ghost from his past, and all I wanted was someone to help me get out of the singles club. That was the deal. Until I went public with a new boyfriend, and he showed up red-eyed and spilled his guts—turns out, I'd been treating him like a dinner date, and he'd been playing the long game, just waiting to steal me away and make me his girlfriend.